A small jolt of Magic stalled Maeve mid-step.
“No,” she breathed.
A rolling momentum of Magic violently shook through the palace. The ground itself seemed to ripple as a low grumbling noiseundulated into a roar. Her footing shifted, and she gripped one of the crystal pillars, her eyes narrowed across the Black Deep.
Reeve appeared behind her as she stared across the darkened lake. His arms wrapped around her front, and he pulled her back against his chest. She allowed herself the short and fleeting moment. Reeve’s lips pressed against her hair, finding her temple in a reverent way.
It was unspoken between them what they did in their next shared breath. Her head leaned back against his chest. Their arms moved as one, developing from their bodies and extending to either side. The bond of Magic between them tightened, humming in joyous harmony at their shared use of Magic. Reeve’s fingers found her own, interlacing them with his.
As they erected a new line of holy Magic, one that separated the incoming Dreaded Dead from Crystalmore and the Celestian Palace, Maeve couldn’t understand how the ability poured freely from her with no reserve. It was as easy as twisting two fingers to lift a feather. It had been the same with transfiguring Antony’s Magic. She willed it. And Magic answered.
“I’m by your side, Maeve,” said Reeve, his breath ghosting the side of her face.
Not enough time. There hadn’t been enough time for Shadow to possibly absorb enough Dread Magic from the Dreaded Dead to breach the wall.
But as a distinct Magical signature and the distance pretense of toxic air pricked in warning in her Magic, and as the sounds of Senshi and Dread Magicals alike prepared for incoming, she knew a final battle was upon her. Seeing Mal would have to wait.
Chapter 53
Abraxas stood in the darkened bedchamber of The Celestian Palace, his eyes on Mal. Not a cell. No chains bound him. The bedding behind him was cold, as all things were sinceshetook him. He pressed his bony spine against the smooth headboard and held himself a little higher. Dozens of armed Senshi Warriors stood, surrounding the room, making no effort to move towards Abraxas. Only one barrier remained: the line of Magic Reeve himself cast around Mal.
It glimmered softly at the edges of the bed he didn’t recall being placed in.
Had Reeve cast it to keep Mal in? Or to keep others out?
As the tips of Abraxas’ fingers pressed against the wall of Magic, rendering him unable to pass, Mal knew at least one of them was certain.
“May we have the room?” asked Abraxas.
“No,” said Drystan, drawing Mal’s attention to the small framed archer in the corner.
He sat, relaxed in a chair, a book in hand, and answered politely.
Abraxas nodded and looked back at Mal as Drystan returned to his reading. The illusion of privacy was there, at least.
“Why are you here?” Mal’s raspy voice asked.
“Surely you can feel what is happening, Mal.”
The firelights flickered along the walls, casting a comforting warm glow on the bed. His fingers traced the fabric beneath him, and he felt her at once.
The soft floral, and clean scent of Maeve trickled into his senses, dulled. Like everything was. Like the forgotten feeling of soap and water. Like the distant feeling of water on his tongue, knowing it should refresh and revive him, but merely tasting like ash.
Abraxas kneeled beside the bed, getting as close to Mal as he could with the Magic that separated them.
Mal’s head rolled against the headboard, slowly following his Hand’s movement. “Mal? I suppose that is what you called me. I have only known another name for so long. Feels like decades since I’ve heard that name.”
“I gave you that nickname,” replied Abraxas with a small smile. “How could you forget?”
Mal inhaled deeply, searching for the memory. “Did you?” he asked fondly.
Abraxas nodded. “Stuck like glue. Of course, it was only for those of us who earned it. Otherwise, the use of such a familiar call had you glaring.”
The corners of Mal’s mouth pulled up. The feeling was strained, wrong even.
Abraxas hummed. “I remember the first time I heard Maeve call you Mal. You tried to hide it, though you hid nothing from me, but I don’t think hearing that affection from any of us landed the way it did coming from her.”
Mal looked down. After a moment of reflection, he spoke. “Nothing’s ever come close to feeling like her.”
